


The Sun Sets Someplace Else

by Mountainmoth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, But what’s new, Crowley’s depressed, Fae AU, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Fluffy, Gabriel’s a prick as well, M/M, Minor Angst, but hey ho, it’s an au got it, nice one uwu, only a lil, uwuuwuwuwuwuuwuuuwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:30:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mountainmoth/pseuds/Mountainmoth
Summary: Let's switch mythologies, shall we?A wayward university student down on his luck catches glimpse of a creature in the forest, a creature that impacted him far more than he predicted.





	The Sun Sets Someplace Else

**Author's Note:**

> This is,, not Octopath, but I wanted too write something on it lmao.
> 
> It was originally for an AU challenge I did on the Good Omens amino (cool place, come join!) But I think I may create a longer series from it? I’m not sure, but I may!

The Sun’s light dappled through the trees of the sunset as Crowley stared vacantly out at it’s light. Life in the Cotswolds figured much more boring than he’d anticipated, and so he found himself staring out at the ailing day. A Queen: Best Hits CD droned in the back, but for some reason, it did nothing.

He felt nothing. Nothing at all. His head lay vacant, and nothing echoed in the cave left behind.  
"Dammit!" He suddenly yelled, slamming his hand into the wooden table stood next to him. A lost breeze swept past him as he stared for a moment, before he looked back at his old cottage.  
"Go to West Dorset, they said" he spat. "Enjoy nature, they said."  
He paused on the thought for a few moments. "'Enjoy nature' enjoy nature, what kind of bullshit is that? What's there to enjoy? The abundance of leaves?"  
And indeed, what lay before him was an abundance of leaves. He took another puff of his cigarette, and continued to muse about the world - his only audience the leaves that he found so abundantly boring.  
"Why did I come here anyway," he huffed. "Hastur can't be that bad,"  
It only took a second of evaluation to contradict that statement. 

"And what's with the trees anyway?” Crowley huffed, throwing his hands into the air. “They’re not healthy, either. Look at them. Spots, blemishes, desises, everything! God it’s like they’re being… Being… Oh I don’t know!” Exasperated, Crowley took another sip of his coffee.  
“Tress.” He muttered. “That’s all that’s out here.”

It was then that something caught his eye. Something small, but something undeniable. A small shape in the bushes - only slightly shorter than he - quickly scurried from view. But not quick enough for the glimpse of pale blonde hair to escape his vision, which broke through the bushes for a second longer than the thing in question had intented. Crowley stared for a second. And then for a second more. But the more he stared, the more he lost it from view. So, with a skip he kept out of his patio chair, made a brisk pace across the grass that segregated his cottage and the forest that stretched out for miles. He pushed his way through the ferns, suddenly entranced by the sight of the snow hair, but no matter where he looked, it had escaped. His eyes darted from one tree, behind another, in front of one more, to the tops of the tree tops to the sun-spilled ground below, nothing.

Crowley groaned, and looked around him one more time. The fern lost it’s magic, and the vibrant colours returned to the shades of dull green that he saw before. With a sigh, he turned away to return home, questioning what possessed him to come there in the first place. Only, his home was no longer visible. Forest stretched as far as he could see, a sea of ferns flooded out before him, and the tall oaks stretched into the heavens.  
“Fantastic.” He spat. “Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Exactly what I wanted to deal with. Gordon Bennett.”

With a heavy sigh, he slumped down by an old oak. It’s roots lurched up and down, like a boat on a rough sea, twisting and turning in just the right ways to make a seat. He cast another desperate glance, but the trees grew around him like the bars of prison, and left and right slowly melted from his vision.  
“Well.” He eventually declared. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”  
After a while of moping, a realisation suddenly hit him. His phone. He slid the old IPhone from his pocket, and opened it to only find a sinking feeling settle in his stomach.  
No data.  
“Great.” Crowley hissed.

Suddenly, a flash of white marked his vision. A spark lit in his stomach as he whipped around to the sight, only to find a small dove, perched on a nearby branch. With another dramatic sigh he flung his head back into the tree, only to exclaim in pain when he hit his head to hard. Right as he did, the dove let out a low coo, and flapped its wings.  
“Yeah, alright, you can stop laughing,” Crowley scoffed.  
“Coo.” The dove replied.  
“And! You could leave me alone.” He continued.  
“Coo.” The dove replied again.  
“Oh do leave me alone, Christ’s sake.”  
The dove turned its head, before cooing once more.  
“Oh shut up! I’m in a rotten mood and you aren’t helping!”  
The dove flapped its wings, and stretched it’s back.  
“Coo whoo,” it simply said in reply.  
Crowley moaned. “And you want to know why, eh?”  
The dove turned its head.  
“You know what? I’m not going to tell you, because it’s a stupid reason, and you’ll just, coo or something. Oh I don’t know! You’ll, you’ll do something won’t you.”  
The dove turned it’s head once again, pinning it’s glance to the poor Crowley.  
“Oh alright!” He spat. “I’m lost.”

He glued his eyes shut upon the verbalisation of his problem. A weight lifted from his stomach, but still the stress set in him like a fossil embedded into the rock.  
“But, I suppose you can’t help with that, can you? You’re only a dove, after all.”  
“I can.” A chirpy voice replied. Crowley immdetley shot up, his eyes flung open to reveal where the dove once perched was now a stout man.  
“That is, if you’re okay with it, I seemed to have given you quite a shock, are you alright?”  
“You just appeared-“ Crowley murmured. “Right there, just, bam, there you are.”  
“No of course not!” He protested. “I’ve been here for a while!”  
“Oh don’t lie all that’s been here is a dove- oh, oh please,” Crowley sighed. “Please don’t try to argue you were the dove.”  
“That’s exactly what I was going to do!” The man protested, before hopping down from the tree. “Let me try that again. Hello, my name is Aziraphale. I’m a fae, and perhaps the reason you’re lost.”

Now with the benefit of perspective, the image of Aziraphale begun to take shape. He looked about his age, and fairly normal. While the beige long sleeve top and a tartan waistcoat looked to have come from the 1800s, everything was relatively in order for a man who just claimed to be a dove. That was, until Crowley noticed long, pointed ears, that stretched back into his hair, where ivy weaved thrugh his tangled light beige hair.  
“A fae.” Crowley echoed. “But fairies aren’t real.”  
“To you they’re not.” Aziraphale spat. “But that can change. On that note, I never got your name.”  
“Oh, right. Crowley.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened for a second, and for a brief moment, Crowley could have sworn to lay vision to a thousand fireflies dancing in his deep blue eyes. But just as quick as they came, they were gone, leaving Crowley even more bewildered then he was too begin with.

“It’s a lovely name,” Aziraphale eventually murmured. “Biblical.”  
“A bit like your’s then. I could have sworn Aziraphale was the name of an angel.”  
“Ah yes well -” Aziraphale gave a nervous chuckle. “Call it coincidence.”  
“‘Coincidence aye?” Crowley laughed.  
“Yes, coincidence,” Azriphale nodded. “Anyway, don’t you need to go home?”  
“Right, that’s a good point. Do you know the way then?”  
“Well of course!”  
“Oh, well then, show the way.”

Aziraphale lead him through the ferns, occasionally looking intently at the trees as if instructions were inscribed across, reading every crevice and crook as elaborate poems, before continuing on his way. Before long had passed, the sight of Crowley’s thatched cottage broke through the cathedral of oak.  
“Ah, you live in that one then?” Aziraphale chuckled. “I have been quite envious of the owner of that house for quite some time,”  
Crowley furled his brow at the quaint building that sat in front of them. “Right, and how, on our first meeting, do you know where I live?”  
Aziraphale looked at him, then the house, and with a nervous chuckle, he simply gave a wave, with the prompt reply of “Well, on that note I should really be going, have a good day Crowley.”  
“Oh, alright. You as well I suppose.” Crowley murmured in reply, as Aziraphale hurried his way into the forest.  
“Well.” He concluded. “That happened.”

Soon, the Sun mingled with the Horizon, splashing the canvas of the sky with mirages of oranges and reds that announced the night's arrival. The lights played with the leaves of the forest, casting silhouettes of the forest’s bone as went. In the cottage, they broke through the cottage’s small windows, sending the room into a deep orange sea. Crowley sighed at his work, notebooks and textbooks sprawled across the table. “Ethics of law,” haunted his vision as it lay dormant in the graveyard of pages, looming into his vision ever so often only to go back to it’s resting place. Crowley cast his eyes to the clock, the second hand counting the time, like a diligent soldier marching to a beat Crowley didn’t hear.  
“Three hours.” He murmured. “I have stared at this blimin’ page for three hours.”

He closed the book with a thud, dispelling any ghosts that lay within, and freed his muscles from the torture of staying still with a stretch. The evening light played with his vision, when suddenly the portrait of a little fae with stars in his eyes flashed in his mind. A small prick in his heart startled him, and with a deep breath, he got up and placed the kettle on the boil, tipping some coffee into his mug. As the hot water swelled into the mug, flooding the cup with a deep brown sea. Soon the top settled with a beige rug on top, spinning through the mists of the ceramic cup. Crowley lent on the counter, and as he took a sip, he couldn’t help but feel he’d forgotten something.

In someplace else, the evening light danced with the trees, casting shadows on the audience of ferns and flowers that decorate the forest’s stage. Fairy lights of fireflies began to emerge, catching the eye of Aziraphale who sat in the clearing, watching the fireflies bring elaborate routines to life. After a while, he cupped a group of seeds in his hands, and lay a gentle breath on the sleeping grains. As they blew into the breeze, a green light hugged each one, and guided them to a free place on the forest floor. With a gentle smile, he congratulated the fireflies on their performance, to which they gave a happy wiggle and settled into the grass. Just as they did, a dove landed on Aziraphale’s shoulder, announcing the arrival of two others at the side of clearing. One’s broad shoulders hosted an inquisitive stoat, who’d beady eyes watched Aziraphale is a curious intent. To his side, a young girl stood with her hand on a deer’s neck, a golden flowers blooming in her dark hair.  
“Ah,” Aziraphale called from the middle of the clearing as the two came to join him. “Gabriel, Uriel,”  
“Aziraphale!” Gabriel called with a smile, his stoat scampering onto his head. “The birds brought us good tidings earlier the present day. I hear you have claimed your first name, am I not correct?”  
“Well,” Aziraphale gave a nervous chuckle. “You know how it is, just, happened, really.”  
“Of course, of course!” Gabriel laughed. “We understand, it’s a big thing, you’re first name claim. So, when are we going to meet him?”  
“And,” added Uriel with her piercing tone. “What do you intend to do with him?”  
Aziraphale smiled the best he could in the face of the questions. “Well…” He begun, thinking over what he could say next to avoid suspicion. “It’ll find its way… In due course, you know how it is, not entirely sure yet.”  
“Yes, we understand Aziraphale! But do remember it is your duty to help the forest, and if you don’t have a duty for him soon, then that would all be nothing, right?”  
“Right,” Aziraphale chuckled with a half-witted smile.  
“If you don’t find one soon,” Uriel added, “Then it will come to us to kill him, understand?”  
“Of course!” Aziraphale laughed, trying to hide his trembling hands. “Yes, the way of the forest, and all that, haha,”  
“Indeed.” Uriel responded in a sharp reply.  
Gabriel clapped his hands together, before checking on his stoat that nearly lept of his shoulders. “Right then! We shall leave you too it, Aziraphale. I’m sure you’ll figure something out soon. Until then, I’d recommend you to keep an eye on your name you have their. Could go missing.”  
Aziraphale nodded the best he could, and tried to hide the sigh of relief when the two turned their back. But not a second had his peace lasted before Gabriel turned round and delivered one last spike to Aziraphale’s nerves.  
“Ah yes, that’s a point Aziraphale, the name in question. Crowley, wasn’t it? It’s a lovely one.” Gabriel gave a chuckle as he turned back. “Biblical.”  
Aziraphale watched them leave once again, before turning to the dove that now pecked around in the clearing.  
“Oh,” he cried. “I really am a fool!”  
“Coo.” The dove replied.

The sun slipped below the Horizon, leaving Crowley with just the light of his house to light the failed dreams he’d left behind. Perhaps, he mused, that is had stayed home, maybe he’d be focused. Maybe it all wouldn’t look at pointless as it did. He lent against the window pane, letting the smoke of his cigarette drift off into space. Part of him wished to join it, but part of his watched the tree lines, desperately searching for something. Perhaps a deer, perhaps a dove.

His thoughts wondered as he stared into the ailing horizon. Stars began to show themselves in the hazy night, and a cold breeze swept through the garden. Suddenly, movement at the forest border caught his eye. A streak of light beige tangled in ivy mingled with bushes, before an inquisitive face emerged from the tree line. Crowley stared at it for a few moments, both the two locked eye contact. His face lit up as he made his way across gravel path, and up to the old wooden gate at the bottom of the garden. Crowley shot from the window and through the door and hurried out to meet him.  
“You’re the guy from, earlier, aren’t you?” He called as he made his way through the roses and lavender.  
“Ah, yes. Crowley correct? We have much to discuss!” The man called in response, an urgency edging every word.  
“Yes, that’s right. And you’re Aziraphale.”  
“Indeed.”  
“Well then, i suppose, would you like to come inside?”  
“Yes,” Aziraphale murmured. “I would very much like that.”

Crowley pushed open the door to his cottage, and placed the kettle over the stove for the second time that day. Aziraphale found his way to the table, and after a brief exchange of words lit the sound of the boiling water, he sat down in one of the old oak chairs. soon the room swamped with science as the boiling stopped, the flow of the water was the only keeping a room afloat. Crowley brought the two mugs over, one filled with coffee, the other a light beige tea.  
“Coffee?” Aziraphale commented. “At this hour?”  
“Decaf.” Crowley said in reply. It was a lie.  
“Ah.” Aziraphale responded. “Anyway, the business at hand,”  
Crowley looked at him with a puzzled expression, before connecting the dots.  
“Oh right, you did have news, didn’t you.”  
“Yes.” He retorted grimly. “I do. You are in danger, and we have to sort it out.”  
“Danger?” Crowley echoed. “What kind?”  
“Fae kind. Now I know you don’t believe-”  
“I don’t.” Crowley cut him off. “And since you’re so adamant about it, prove it.”  
“Prove it?” Aziraphale resounded. “Well, if I must.”

Aziraphale rummaged around in his pockets and eventually brought out a little tartan draw string bag. He careful draw the bag open, and tipped a small collection of grains into his hands. Cupping his hands into a little cradle, he blew into them, and slowly, each one bloomed. Crowley’s eyes widened as they started to rise, like thousands of little jellyfish in a tropical sea. Their delicate skirts sprawled out a blue light, immersing the room into a deep blue haze, lit by the lights of each flower that hung in the air.  
“It’s beautiful.” Crowley gasped, before realising what he said. With a chough, he corrected himself. “I mean, they’re nice.”  
With a gentle smile, Aziraphale reached out to one and gave it a small tap, sending it gliding over to Crowley. “Aren’t they just?”  
“What are they?” Crowley asked.  
“An orchid seed, brought to life by the magic of the forest. Every flower has something like this.”  
Crowley stared at them for a while longer.  
“You really are a faery then.”  
Aziraphale smiled. “Glad you noticed.”

For a while, time stopped. The clock faded from his ears, captivated by the orchids brought to life by the fan’s wish. He looked over to Aziraphale, who’s eyes sparkled like the warm water of a tropical sea, a million corals reflected underneath. The flowers slowly drifted too and fro, lighting his mug with a glorious blue aurora every time they passed. Crowley felt himself melt in their warmth, as each one was filled with kindness that radiated in their light.

Suddenly, they all shriveled up and plummeted to the table. Aziraphale shot from his chair, his eyes wild and feral like a avenged dog.  
“Crowley,”  
“Yes?”  
“Go upstairs. And quickly.” He hissed.  
“Wait, why?”  
“Just do as I say!” He cried, his voice sharpened in anguish.  
“But- surely if something’s coming, I can help?”  
Aziraphale shook his head and faced Crowley. “Please, for your own sake. It’s my fault your in this mess, And I’m going to get you out. Understand? Now please, go.”

Crowley looked to the shriveled seeds on the table, and then to Aziraphale. Without a word, he quickly marched upstairs, through the two rooms on his landing to the end third. He slumped onto his bed, casting a glance out to his window. It was then he noticed two individuals, one whose skin was dark as a pine, the other tall with a stoat on his shoulders. Behind them walked a deer, occasionally getting distracted by bushes of rose and lavender. He quickly ducked below the window, careful to stay out of eyeshot. Hus heart lurched as the door below his room opened, and Aziraphale’s chirpy greeting echoed in the front room.  
“Gabriel, Uriel! It’s a pleasure to see you.”  
“Yes, quite, are you doing anything productive?” Another replied.  
“Well, yes, you could call it that - I mean,”  
“He isn’t.” Another responded, her voice cutting through air even to the room above.  
“No, no! Umm, actually, I came here to… Work something out!”  
“Ah really?” One of them asked. “Then I can assume the jasmine seeds littered across the floor are testimony to that?”  
“Well, they, yes, I’m working on it.”  
“Working on it?” The sharp voice retorted.  
“We’ll be kean on seeing that young gentleman soon, Aziraphale.”  
“Of course, Gabriel!” Aziraphale gave a nervous chuckle. “I’ll have results… Soon, probably.”  
“We’ll trust that you do.” Uriel murmured.  
“Yes, I trust that you will, Aziraphale.”  
“Of course!” he laughed. “Yes, I’ll... Figure something out, I’m sure.”  
Silence then rested in the room below, and the door opened. The two left and walked through the garden, but Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling that the eyes of the fae were glued to his window.

The silence settled again, and Crowley eventually made his way downstairs when he was sure all were gone. As predicted, Aziraphale was clearing the jasmine seeds from the table, placing them in his small tartan drawstring bag.  
“So, that was thing.” Crowley murmured as he emerged from the stairs.  
“Indeed it was.” Aziraphale answered grimly.  
“What was that about then?”  
Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sit down for this one dear.”  
“Dear?”  
Aziraphale’s cheeks lit a soft red before he shook his head. “I mean, whatever you wish to be called.”  
“Nah.” Crowley stated. “That’s fine.”  
“Well.” Aziraphale huffed. “If you say so.”

Crowley walked over to the table and sat down.  
“So then, what’s going on?”  
Aziraphale looked to the window, checking every detail of the garden.  
“Aziraphale, they’re gone,” Crowley growled. “And if they aren’t they certainly can’t hear you.”  
“Oh, I know, it’s just they heard me earlier talking to you-” Aziraphale’s eyes filled with pain, the type of look that shot a dagger in Crowley’s stressed. “I’m just worried they’ll hear again.”  
“Oh, it’s alright fae.” Crowley exclaimed, his voice then dropping to a low whisper. “Even if they did what would they do?”  
“A lot,” He replied. “That’s the issue. Look - I took your name earlier.”  
“And?”  
“I-” Aziraphale paused, slightly dumbfounded at Crowley’s blase response. “Oh! Right, Not your name, in the conventional sense, it’s rather hard to explain, but, I suppose it could be defined as your soul? It’s just, you had already given a little bit by pursuing me in the forest - I couldn’t really leave you in the forest like that.”  
“You took my soul?” Crowley echoed.  
“Well, it could be defined as that,”  
“So,” Crowley announced. “What’s going to happen now then?”  
“You don’t seem that fazed by it.” Aziraphale murmured.  
“I don’t think I’ll ever be fazed by much again fae.”  
“Right, that’s… Understandable.” Aziraphale continued. “However, usually, when a fae takes a name, the person in question becomes a slave, or are killed, and that’s what my fellow fae want me to do to you, but- Oh! I don’t know. There just seems something very wrong with that.”  
Crowley let out a small huff, before getting out of the table and walking over to the window.  
“So i’m guessing earlier…”  
“Yes.” Aziraphale spat. “They came to check on me.”  
Crowley mulled over the idea for a few moments.  
“I know we’ve just met, but how about we run away together?”  
“Run away!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Out of the question, I mean, where would we go?”  
“We can find somewhere!” Crowley blurted back. “Somewhere far from here!”  
“I mean, you just got here, didn’t you?” Aziraphale murmured. “This is your home.”  
“It’s not really, fae.” Crowley muttered. “I just came here to avoid everyone.”  
“Surely, finances would be an issue though?”  
“I never spend my money, fae, I have plenty.”  
“But where would we go?”  
Crowley paced to the side of the table that Aziraphale sat at, and pulled up a chair to face him.  
“I don’t know.” Me meandered. “But we can find someplace. Where would you want to live? Ideally.”  
“Well…” Aziraphale paused, mulling the thought over. “I’ve only ever lived in the woods, I couldn’t say.”  
The two sat in silence for a moment, before Crowley came up with an idea.  
“How about France?”  
“France?” Aziraphale replied. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”  
“Hear me out, there’s lots of woodlands, so you’re okay, they wouldn’t be able to get across the border, so I’d be safe.” Crowley’s voice quieted as he added “besides. I’ve always wanted an excuse to live there.”  
“Well then,” Aziraphale concluded. “I suppose, France it is.”


End file.
